


Code Pink?

by TaterBear



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Depressed Ian Gallagher, M/M, POV Ian Gallagher, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24725530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaterBear/pseuds/TaterBear
Summary: Ian's meds have run out and he's depressed. His thoughts have turned against him.A short one-shot that takes place after season 10, and during the COVID-19 outbreak
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 10
Kudos: 128





	Code Pink?

**Author's Note:**

> I ran out of my meds, and decided to let Ian help me with the thoughts in my head.
> 
> Gallavich OST is temporarily on hold while I deal with my life.  
> Be back soon, hopefully.
> 
> You can find me in tumblr @deathdoesntdancealone. I’m not that interesting though, so you might not be too impressed.

Nobody loves me. Nobody gives a shit about me. I should just die and then they wouldn't have to put up with my bullshit.

“Babe?” Mickey must want something, probably clothes. “Open the door?” Whatever Mickey, I locked it for a reason. Besides, it's not like it's an actual fucking door.

I bet Mickey is seeing someone at work. Some hot guy who isn't crazy. I'm so ugly and broken. I don't know why Mickey and I ever started dating in the first place. Oh yeah, that was before I lost my mind.

“Ian, I need you to open the door. Please?” Fuck off Mickey.

I bet if I died, no one would miss me. How long did it take for them to find me at the bar after I went AWOL? Did anyone even know I was gone?

“If you don't open this fucking door, I'm gonna go get your brothers.” Like Lip and Carl care. “Jesus Ian.” Jesus doesn't live here Mickey. Or maybe he means Gay Jesus. He doesn't live here either.

I wonder if dying hurts. Like not the part before dying, the slashed wrist or the gunshot, the actual dying.

It's quiet. Guess Mickey left. Don't know why he sticks around. Maybe I should pack my stuff and leave. Where would I go? This is my family's house.

Mickey acts like he likes Franny and Fred. Acts like he loves babysitting. But he doesn't. Of course he doesn't. Why would he? I know Mickey hates me. They only reason we're still together is because Mickey feels sorry for me. He pities me because I'm crazy. He feels like he has to be responsible for me.

I love Mickey so much. I always have. Ever since he told me he'd cut my tongue out if I tried to kiss him. That first time. He was something back then. He may have called me Firecrotch, but he was my firecracker. Ready to go off any minute. God, I love him.

I wish he loved me. I wish I was good enough. I will never be good enough for Mickey. He deserves so much better. I left him, _twice_ , because I wanted him to find someone better. I wanted better for him. I'm no good. I'm a piece of shit.

How long have I been in this bed? Is it day or night? Where's my phone? Where are my clothes? When did I last eat? Does it fucking matter anymore? Can you will yourself to just die?

I'm so tired. Can I sleep more? Maybe if I just lay here, Mickey will leave me. He'll get mad that I didn't help clean the kitchen. Or that I didn't take a bath today. Or that I didn't help with Franny. He's gonna get sick of me, then what?

Mickey needs to leave me. He needs to be with someone else. But I can't live without him. And he won't leave me. Maybe I should kill myself. Set Mickey free. Sometimes I want to kill myself just to not have to deal with it anymore. But most of the time, it's because that's probably what would be best for my family.

“Ian?” Carl? “Ian, you ok?” Why is Carl here? I thought he was helping Kev find some tires for his truck. “Ian, can you answer me just so I know you're alive?”

“Just go away.” My voice sounds like shit. When was the last time I talked? When was the last time I drank something? I look around and find an old water bottle beside the bed. I take a drink. It's hot and gross, but it makes my throat feel a little better.

“Yo, Ian.” Great, Lip. Dammit Mickey. Why did you have to get Lip? “Ian, if you don't unlock this door, Mickey and I are gonna break it down. Alright?”

What do you care anyway? You got Fred. You don't even live here anymore. “Fuck off Lip.”

I can hear mumbling behind the door. Mickey, Carl, and Lip. Bet they're talking about me. Put me in the hospital again. Get rid of me. I can hear snippets of what they're saying.

“Code Pink...?”

“Not that bad...”

“No refills...?”

“Caught it in time...”

“Waiting on the doctor to call...”

“Didn't want to do that without you...”

Bang. They really are gonna break the door down. Bang. One more and they'll be in here. Bang. All three of them topple in the room.

“Hey Ian, uh, Mickey said you ran out of your meds.” Like Lips cares. I roll my eyes. Why does Mickey have to tell Lip my business. “He said that with all this stuff shutting down with the rona, your shrink is overloaded and your refills didn't come through.”

At least Lip knows it's not my fault. I didn't go off my meds willingly. Mickey has been trying and trying to get them. I don't know why Mickey does that for me.

“I made you some Ramen.” Carl held up a bowl. “And Mickey got you a cold pop.”

“I know you feel awful right now.” Mickey's voice is soothing. It almost feels like he loves me. He rubs his fingers through my hair. “I don't know how you feel, but I know you feel awful. But I need you to eat and drink something for me.” I shake my head. No, I don't feel like it. Does starving to death hurt?

“Dammit Gallagher.” There it is the anger and resentment. He hits the wall.

“Mickey...” Lip looks at him. Just let him leave Lip. Just let him go.

“Fuck off Lip.” I almost chuckle. I like that Mickey doesn't take Lip's shit. It gets real quiet, real fast. I guess they noticed my emotion.

“Ian, dammit, I can't stand seeing you hurting like this.” Is he crying? “Please eat for me. Please.”

I roll over and look at him. He's crying. Why is he crying? Does he care?

He looks at me and I swear he looked all the way into my soul.

“Are you having irrational thoughts again?” Mickey always knows. “I know you don't think they're as bad as the hallucinations you have when you're manic, but you need to tell me if you have them.”

I shrug. Are they irrational?

Mickey sighs. He's done this before. “Ian, I love you. Lip loves you. Carl loves you. Debbie loves you. Liam loves you. Franny loves you. Fred loves you. Kev and Vee love you. Fiona and Mandy, wherever they are, love you. Frank is an asshole. You are not Monica. Terry is a douche. You are important. I don't want to leave you. I don't want you to leave me. We would all miss you if you died. None of us are better off without you. We want you in our lives. You are the love of my life. As gay as it sounds, you are my high school sweetheart, if we would've stuck out high school. I've never been happier than I was the day we got married. Well, maybe I was happier that night...” He smirked at me. Carl and Lip both looked like they could've done without that clarification and I smiled at their expressions.

Everyone smiled back at me, relieved. “I'm sorry guys.”

“Don't apologize for something you can't help.” Micky pointed at my head. “You're depressed. We know. But you know the irrational thoughts make it worse. I can't help you not be depressed, but I can try to help you not listen to the voice in your head that lies to you.”

“I'm not hearing voices.” I know that hallucination. “It's my voice.”

“It's still lying to you.” Mickey hugs me and I let him. “Please eat for me and then I want to lay here with you a while. I want to be here if you need me. I can't do that if you lock the door.” He pointed to the now broken door. “We can't have sex when you get your meds again if we don't have a door.”

“Ok, Ian I do love you man, but I can't handle you guy's sex life.” Lip was backing out the door. Carl snickered, but followed Lip out.

Mickey's phone rang. “Hello?” He jumped off the bed. “Yes, yes it is.” He looked at me with a smile. “Yes, we've been trying. No, he ran out and we couldn't get a refill.” My meds. I sighed in relief. “Of course I can. Thank you so much for that. Yes, right away.” He hung up his phone. “They're calling in your meds. I gotta go pick them up. Will you be ok while I'm gone? I'll ask Lip if he can borrow Tami's car so I won't be gone as long. Do you want me to ask Carl to stay?” He was so excited he was talking fast.

I nodded. “Both.” I will be ok, but I still want Carl to stay if he can.

He rushed over to me and put his forehead against mine. “I love you Firecrotch.”

“I love you too, Mick.” And it's going to be ok. It's not ok right now, but it will be soon.

And that's ok too.

**Author's Note:**

> A few years ago, I was diagnosed with Bipolar II (Ian has Bipolar I). Last year, my psychiatrist said that I wasn't bipolar because of my sleep patterns [confused face] and changed my diagnosis to Major Depressive Disorder with manic episodes [confusion intensifies]. I don't understand, I just know that my meds were changed after that to a different drug class (whatever that means), and I got a lot better. I recently ran out of my meds due to the shut downs with COVID-19. They changed from in office tele-med to over the phone and the appointment schedule got all screwed up. Plus all the extra freaking out people did. I'm spiraling up and down at the moment. I woke up the other day thinking about how much better off the world would be without me in it. But, thanks to therapy, I recognized my irrational thoughts were pulling me down and I buried myself in trying to learn French (don't ask) just to have something to focus on. I decided to have Ian go through what I was going through to help me deal my thoughts. And I wanted Mickey to remind Ian of all the stuff I wish someone would say to me when I get like that.


End file.
